


Stages of Grief: A Blog

by Grizi



Series: Life After Reichenbach [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grizi/pseuds/Grizi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has lost Sherlock.  How will he ever recover?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shock and Denial

**July 15 th  
**

It’s been a month.  A simple, but long interminable month.  It’s taken me this long to admit it has happened.  My best friend, Sherlock Holmes is dead.  I’ve only said it once since he…since he fell.  I refuse to say he jumped, as so many are wont to do.  Even now, writing it here, it doesn’t seem real.  I haven’t been able to allow anyone to say the words without getting angry.  I can’t bring myself to go to the places we went.  I can’t talk to anyone we’ve both known.  But there it is: Sherlock Holmes is dead and there’s nothing I can do about it….except grieve.

 **Molly Hooper:**   I’m so sorry for your loss, John.  He was a wonderful man and a perfect prat.  I’ll miss his visits to St. Bart’s

 **John Watson:**  Thanks, Molly.

 **Harry Watson:**   So sorry, kiddo.  Call if you need me.

 **John Watson:**  Thanks, Sis.

 **Mike Stamford:**  So sorry to hear, mate.  He was a pretty decent bloke.

 **John Watson:**  Thanks, Mike.

 **Greg Lestrade:**  So very sorry, John.  Ring me when you feel up to a pint in his honor.

 **Anonymous:**  You’ll make it through this, John.  It’ll all turn out for the best.

 **John Watson:**  How can you say that?  He’s gone.  He’s never coming back.  I’ve gotten to that point that I can admit that much.  But with him gone, nothing will be for the best.

 **Anonymous:**  I just meant to have faith.

 **John Watson:**  Faith in what?  Hard to have faith when I’m pretty damn sure there’s no God of any sort.

 **Anonymous:**  Then have faith in him.  You always did.  Sherlock wouldn’t want you to hurt like this.

 **John Watson:**  Then he bloody well shouldn’t have killed himself, should he?!


	2. Pain & Guilt

**August 7th**

I can't do this any more. It hurts too much! Maybe I'd be better off doing what he did. But I can't. I'm too much of a coward to take my own life.

When I came back from Afghanistan, I thought about doing it every day…every night. I would put my service revolver to my temple every night and just pray to have the courage to pull the trigger, just once. I got braver and braver each night, but never could. Sherlock saved my life. If I hadn't met him, I wouldn't have made it more than another week, I'm sure. The temptation to end it had gotten too strong. But finding him…being a part of his life, his adventures…

Maybe if I'd told him what I was thinking…what I was feeling…Maybe he'd still be here with me…maybe he would have seen a future. Maybe he would have wanted to let me help him through it, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't bring myself to talk about him. Maybe tonight I'll finally have the courage.

 **Harry Watson:** John, this isn't you. You've always been the strong one. Please, get help if you are really thinking about suicide.  


 **John Watson:** Thanks, Sis. I appreciate your encouragement, but I just don't see the point any more.

 **Molly Hooper:** John, please call me. We really need to talk.

 **Greg Lestrade:** Mate, I feel your pain. Let's meet for drinks.

 **Anonymous:** John, don't do it. Please. Sherlock wouldn't want you to do this! He'd want you to live…for him. He may not have always been able to show it, but he cared for you beyond measure.

 **John Watson:** Really? How can you know that? He killed himself! I didn't even know that and I was his best friend!

 **Anonymous:** Yes, you were. But there are so many things he didn't tell you and should've

 **John Watson:** How can you know that? Are you his brother?

 **Anonymous:** Not even close. Mycroft is a twat.

 **John Watson:** Well, then. Who are you?

 **John Watson:** Well?

 **John Watson:** Please tell me.


	3. Anger & Bargaining

**September 24th**

I went bent back to the flat today. Mrs. H has been keeping it for me despite my insistence that I want nothing to do with the place. I guess she knew I eventually would feel the need to return. Unfortunately, the place is a bit more of a disaster area than normal. I kind of lost it. Guess I've hit the anger stage. Anything that was not solidly put away or tied down is not much more than a pile of rubble. I guess it is best that I took out my anger on inanimate objects. Anything that was Sherlock's was in absolute danger. I guess Mrs. H knew that, too. I couldn't find his damn skull or that bloody violin. The experiments in the fridge, however, kind of made a nice drippy mess on that damn wall.

It was a short outburst, but there's glass and slime everywhere. I'm so angry! Yes, I am so angry that he would go away and leave me! I don't know what I did to make him think that I wouldn't be able to help him! Why? Why did he kill himself? I've finally resigned myself to the fact that he didn't simply fall. He bloody fucking jumped! And in front of me! A person can never fucking forget something like that! Damn bloody fool!

We had such a good thing going. We had so many things we needed to say to each other. How could he not believe that I didn't care for him? I know I waited too long. I really should have said something when I realised. I should have told him that I needed him in my life as much as I know he needed me! He tried to get me to believe he was a fake. I know he's not! He never was. The world will eventually figure that out. He lied to me. I'm sure it was to protect me, but I wish I'd known what to say to prove to him that I didn't need him to protect me.

If he'd just…well, if he'd just not be dead, I'd do anything, be anything he wanted me to be. I'd show him what it is to truly love another human being…how to love and be loved. I know it won't ever happen, but if it could, I'd be that for him if he came back.

**Molly Hooper:** John, I'm so sorry you're hurting. Please call me. I might be able to tell you some things to ease your hurt. Drinks on me this week some time, ok?

**Greg Lestrade:** Hey, mate! Wish I could help, but since you haven't called, I'm assuming you don't want my help. Can't blame you. I fucked up pretty badly. I'm really sorry for my part in this whole thing, John. Truly, I am.

**John Watson:** It's okay, Greg. I know you were only doing your job. Maybe in a couple weeks. Just need some more time.

**Greg Lestrade:** K. But really, if you need something from me, please let me know. I'm here.

**Anonymous:** Glad you didn't break the violin, John. That's a beautiful and extremely expensive instrument, not that either should matter to you, but Sherlock would be happy you didn't destroy it.

**John Watson:** How would you know?

**Anonymous:** I know.

**John Watson:** How?

**Anonymous:** Been to 221B Baker Street plenty of times. The instrument is stunning. And Sherlock loved that instrument like it was his child.

**John Watson:** How do you know that?! Do I know you?

**Anonymous:** Yes.

**John Watson:** Why don't you sign in, then?

**Anonymous:** You're not ready.

**John Watson:** Not ready? Not ready for what?

**Anonymous:** Not ready for the truth.  


**John Watson:** The truth. Is this you Mycroft? Are you holding out on me? Do you know something about Sherlock's death that I should know? Why aren't you telling me what's going on? Why do you insist on provoking me when you know damn fucking well that it is your fault as much as mine that your brother is dead! You released the monster! You gave the monster ammunition!

**Mycroft Holmes:** No, John. Anonymous is not me. My office is currently trying to track down the person behind these disturbing posts to you. I've been following your blog and your progress through this ordeal. I have not felt the need to make any comments during the process as I know there is no love lost between us.

I know that I am more to blame than anyone for Sherlock's death, except Sherlock himself. I am truly sorry that Sherlock killed himself. My brother always was a selfish prat. He never could see when others truly cared for him. It was one of many faults, but the one I think that has hurt you more than anyone else. Whoever this Anonymous is will cease and desist his taunting of you immediately or he will have the British government to deal with!

**Anonymous:** Thought you were nothing more than a minor official, Mycroft! Though I know we all know better! How dare you release the monster that destroyed their lives? You caused so much harm! Look how John is suffering now because of it! You best do something to compensate, Mycroft. I will make sure you suffer for the hurt you've caused. As for Sherlock's not being able to see other cared, that is not true! He saw. His problem was that you taught him to not care that others cared. He wanted nothing more than to show John his feelings, but you taught him that emotion was a distraction. You taught him to forget emotion and bury it if he couldn't get rid of it! Why do you think he was so into drugs for so long? You made him think he needed to be an automaton and the only way he could NOT feel was to be so drugged out that his emotions no longer mattered!

**John Watson:** Stop. Please. Just stop.

**Anonymous:** For you, John. Because I see it hurts you, I will. I apologize for my tirade. It won't happen again.


	4. Depression & Reflection

**October 31st**

Today is Halloween. Not that it matters to most people. To most people, tonight is a night to dress up in costume, take the kiddies out trick or treating and then getting drunk in the pubs. In reality, it's All Hallow's Eve. The night we remember the dead and their impact they've had on us in the past year. And I am without the one person who made my life a joy.

Mrs. Hudson has been wonderful in letting me stay without rent for the past month or so. I'm glad for this since I can barely function in public as of yet. I suspect that she's being given money by Sherlock's brother, but she won't say anything other than, "Just get better, dear. We'll deal with it later." So I'll say this to you now, Mycroft, since I now know you lurk here: thank you for allowing me the time to grieve. I know that you're a good man and that you cared deeply for your brother, in your own twisted way.

Sherlock had become my reason for waking up each morning. His exuberance and intelligence were always a challenge, but a challenge I needed. I know I'll survive without him, but a part of me really doesn't want to. I miss him so much! It seems I've done nothing but cry these past few weeks. I feel like I should "get over it", but there are so many things I should have, would have, could have said to him. I never got the chance. I never said all those things he needed to hear.

There are days that I feel he's here with me. There are days his smell is so strong in the house, it is as if he was in the room only moments ago. I guess that Halloween is meaning a little bit more to me this year than it ever has in the past. Even now, I sit here, close to "the witching hour" hoping to hear his voice, see his face. But when the dawn comes, I will once again be alone.

**Comments Disabled**


	5. Upward Turn

**November 8th**

The days are getting better. I only seem to cry at night now. I never thought I would stop crying. I've gone back to work at the clinic. Everyone seemed to be genuinely happy to see me. Many people smile and welcome me, but they don't look me in the eye. I know many of them still think Sherlock was a fraud. I still know they're wrong.

Sarah asked me out for coffee yesterday. I was tempted to take her up on it, but I still really just want to be alone for the most part. But it's not as bad as it was.

Now, I just wander about the flat remembering things Sherlock used to do.

I miss his exuberance. He would bounce around the flat like a little kid at Christmas and it wouldn't be Christmas!

I miss his intelligence! I find myself listening to people prattle on and realise that I think they're all boring!

I miss is laugh. He had a great laugh! Few people heard his genuine laugh. Many often were on the end of his derisive or demeaning chuckle. I got to experience his true laughter more than most. His genuine laugh made you want to laugh right along with him. And I often did. I think that's what I miss most.  


Remembering doesn't hurt as much as it did. Like I said, I still cry at night. Mainly, I've realised that I can't ever tell Sherlock what I should have said so many months ago. It's funny…well, okay, not funny, just ironic, I guess. It has only been 4 ½ months. Four and a half months since my world was destroyed, decimated, demolished. It doesn't seem so bad any more. There's a part of me that is sad that I'm not as sad…or angry. I know I'm on the way back from the precipice. But I still have a long way to go. One day, I'll be able to look back on this whole experience and be happy that I knew him, that I…yes, that I loved him.

Yes, I can admit it now. I loved him. I love him. I should have told him before, but I don't think I even knew that love was what I felt. Frustration, anger, disgust at times, yes. Most definitely. But there was also so much excitement, friendship and hilarity. With all that, how could I not love? How could I not know? How could I not tell him?

Okay, anyway, I was doing well, but now I'm blubbering like a fool. I best sign off now and get straightened out for work. I will write more soon.

 **Molly Hooper:** Aw, John. You make my heart ache for you! Just know that he really did care for you. And I think he knew how much you cared for him without you telling him so.

 **John Watson:** Thank you, Molly. I hope he did. It still hurts that I can't tell him face to face.

 **Molly Hooper:** Can you come see me at Bart's? I really would like to talk to you face to face.

 **John Watson:** Maybe in a couple of days. Thanks for your support, Molly. You're a good person. I know it wasn't easy being his associate.

 **Molly Hooper:** It wasn't. But he was better near the end.

 **Greg Lestrade:** Glad to know you're not hurting as much anymore. Again, would love to have a pint with you. Discuss some things that have come to light in the past few weeks.

 **John Watson:** Maybe this weekend, mate. I'm getting ready to go out and be amongst the living again.

 **Greg Lestrade:** Excellent! Can't wait to see you!

 **Harry Watson:** Hey baby brother! Glad to hear you're feeling a bit better!

 **John Watson:** Thanks, Sis. I know it hasn't been long, but it has felt like an entire lifetime without him.

 **Harry Watson:** It gets better, I promise.

 **John Watson:** Thanks!

 **Anonymous:** Very glad to hear you're feeling better, chap.


	6. Reconstruction & Working Through

**November 28th**

Work is going well. I'm actually beginning to feel more like my old self these days. I still have times where I am really down, but Sarah has taken to bringing me tea every couple of days just to make sure that I'm keeping a positive outlook. She's very sweet. And she's a lot more intelligent than Sherlock ever gave her credit for!

I saw Greg this past weekend. We raised a toast to Sherlock and told stories about him to people who didn't know him. So many people have already forgotten everything that the press said about him five months ago. I haven't. Greg hasn't. We're both still angry at Kitty what's-her-bloody-fucking-name. She "Blew the lid" off Sherlock's life with that bastard Rich Brook, who really was Jim Moriarty. Anyone who doesn't get that now is a bloody fool.

Greg says that the ring that Moriarty had set up is disintegrating without its head snake. I have my suspicions about that, but I won't say what I'm thinking here as it could be dangerous…yes, yes I know, saying it could be dangerous is only asking for people to ask what I'm on about. Please, don't.

I've been "kidnapped" by Sherlock's brother once in the last month as well. It apparently was his way of apologizing. Sure, he financially helped me get through the last few months since I wasn't working, but the plonker thought his apologizing to me would make it all better! He is the reason Sherlock is dead. That plain enough for ya, Mycroft? I don't care how much you plead for forgiveness; I will never be able to forgive you for giving Moriarty the ammunition with which to destroy Sherlock! Okay…backing of the anger mode now. I don't want to be angry any more.

Anyway, I'm off to the pub with some old mates from Afghanistan. I guess life is starting to get back to what the regular people call normal. But I will never be normal again.

**Greg Lestrade:** It was good seeing you out, mate! And thanks for the head's up! I'll investigate some things here and let you know. Interested in a little casework?

**John Watson:** He was the deductive genius, not me.

**Greg Lestrade:** Nah, mate! You helped him a lot! Can't hurt to give it a go, you know?

**John Watson:** I'll let you know next week some time. Thanks for the offer.

**Greg Lestrade:** Anytime, mate. Anytime.

**Harry Watson:** Glad to see you're amongst the living again, John! So who is this Sarah? When do I get to meet her?

**John Watson:** She's a co-worker, Harry. She's a great person. We dated once, but things got in the way. We've decided that we're better off being friends than anything else.

**Harry Watson:** Yeah. Right. Sure.

**John Watson:** Harry! Stop! I'm not interested in her that way!

**Harry Watson:** K. Whatever you say. When have you ever passed up a willing girl?

**John Watson:** Since I fell in love with my MALE best friend, you twit!

**Harry Watson:** Oh…yeah, forgot about that!

**Anonymous:** John, check your email.


	7. Revealing Email

From _: shcatlvr_ (28 November 17:35:04 2012)

To _: cptjwatson_

_John,_

_I think you'll be ready to meet me soon. The fact that you have come to terms with your feelings and accepted that Sherlock was a right prat for leaving you in the manner he did shows that you are on your way to healing.  
_

_Follow up with Molly. She will help us meet. She's been helping all along. In fact, there are a lot of things that could have gone wrong if not for her surprisingly intelligent assistance._

_I will contact you again soon._

From _: cptjwatson_ (28 November 17:36:55 2012)

To _: shcatlvr_

_ShCatLvr:_

_The sooner, the better. I've missed you. I need to see you, touch you._

_John_

 

From _: shcatlvr_ (28 November 17:37:05 2012)

To _: cptjwatson_

_John,_

_It will be a while yet. There are workings afoot that still put you in danger. I will not put you in harm's way like that again. I cannot wait to see you as well. I've been positively bored without you and my violin._


	8. A Moment with Molly

_He's contacted me. JW_

_It's about bloody time! <3 MOLLY_

_He says you can help with meeting up with him JW_

_Yes. Give me a couple of days. <3 MOLLY_

_You understand this will change everything. <3 MOLLY_

_Yes. And I'm glad for it. JW_

_Good! I'm so glad it's you he loves. Helps make everything make sense. <3 MOLLY_

_How so? JW_

_I mooned over him for ages. <3 MOLLY_

_Oh. That. Well. Yes.  JW_

_That? You knew? <3 MOLLY_

_Yes, Molly. It was rather obvious. JW_

_Which just made him more of a prat for leading you on like he often did. JW_

_LOL. Yes, but now he's YOUR prat! <3 MOLLY_

_He will be once I get my hands on him! JW_

_I'll text you when I get details hammered out <3 MOLLY_

_Thanks, Molly! You are the best! JW_


	9. Christmas Cards & Surprises

The letter arrived via post a over a full two weeks later, along with about five Christmas cards and a few bills. He immediately recognized the handwriting and wanted to open it, but as soon as he'd grabbed the post off the front table, he'd received a text from an unknown number.  


_Opn it lst._

_Why? JW_

_Ltr frm *|:o) B a gud boy._

_Really? From Santa? JW_

_OK, 1 of *|:o)s elves._

_You don't believe in Santa…or elves for that matter. JW_

_This yr, I do._

_Why? JW_

_I jus do, John._

_Now, don't opn ltr til u read everything ls._

_Fine. JW  
_

He hated that Sherlock texted in shorthand, but he'd spent enough time with him that he got the gyst of what was said, even after four months. He did as bid and behaved. He opened the bills and heard "Boring. Bills are boring." in his head and chuckled. He then started on the Christmas cards.

The first was from Harry, a surprise. He had spoken with Harry the evening before and she'd not mentioned a card, but then, she often forgot in her new love-haze. He wasn't one to judge (okay, who was he kidding?), but the new lady friend Harry had was not his sister-in-law…okay, ex-sister-in-law. That one was hard on him. He'd really liked Clara, but their divorce had been final a few weeks. Harry hadn't kept him up to date on that, knowing how he'd liked Clara and that he was going through his own issues. So, he was surprised that Harry had had the wherewithal to actually send him a card.

The next was from Lestrade, not such a surprise. Lestrade had been relatively persistent throughout John's loss of Sherlock. John was pretty sure Greg had been having his own period of grief, but until they'd met for drinks, he really hadn't cared. But he usually received an email or text from Greg every day. So Christmas card from him was not unheard of, just unexpected.

The third was from Mike Stamford. The fourth was from Molly. Both of them were those upstanding people who regularly sent birthday cards, sympathy cards, and Christmas cards. They were actually ones he had been expecting.

The fifth card was written in an elegant hand and contained a VISA gift credit card, but there was no signature, only a simple statement:

_For your upcoming trip_

He was pretty sure it had come from Mycroft. Not sure about the upcoming trip. He hadn't planned anything. But then again, he had been staying in more and more because he never wanted to miss a text or email from Sherlock. He knew it was pathetic, but he really didn't care. He just wanted him to be done with the whole bloody mess and come home.

John looked at the letter lying on the desk. Now that he had waited, the letter worried him. Why would Sherlock hand write a letter when he was such a technology buff? John He picked up the envelope like it was a most precious jewel. He brushed the tip of his thumb over the script that created his name. Sherlock had surprisingly delicate handwriting for someone who lived like he did. Pulling the letter opener out of the small cup on the corner of the desk, John very carefully sliced the edge of the envelope.

He gently took the letter from the envelope and lovingly unfolded it as he stepped over to his chair and sat down.

_6 December, 2012_

_My Dearest John,_

_I have tried so many times to pen this letter via email and even now, when I've been away from a computer for several days, I've tried to find a way to express all I am feeling._

_The words I love you don't seem to be enough_

John set the letter on his knee and stared into the roaring fire. Sherlock loved him. Yes, he'd known on some level that Sherlock loved him, but Sherlock had not written or texted him those three words. John felt the grin grow on his face and didn't even try to stop the laughter from bubbling over. He sat, giggling like a madman for several minutes before the turned back to the letter.

_Now that you've had your grin and giggle at that apparently new knowledge (though I don't know how you never saw it with the way I've always mooned after you), on to the point of this letter._

John laughed again at Sherlock's understanding of what he would be doing as the letter was being read.

_Sadly, this mission is taking more time to complete than I had hoped. I had hoped to be home with you, wrapped in your arms for Christmas…New Year's Eve at the latest. I am sorry, John, but that won't happen._

John put the letter down for a moment and sighed. It had been his hope as well.  He'd known for certain for a little over two weeks that Sherlock was alive and it was already driving him mad that they had not been able to see each other.

_But please don't be sad about this as there is a solution on the way. Literally, John. Within the hour of you receiving this letter, you will receive a couriered packet from my brother._

_He knows how much he buggered my entire bloody life with his big mouth and he is trying to rectify his stupidity by helping me in this little endeavour.[Unbekannt4]  By the way, Molly believes he said the things he did because he is proud of me. Well, proud or not, he set everything in motion that made me have to leave you before I could tell you I love you. The only way then was to save you._

_The couriered packet should be arriving now._

John jumped as the buzzer sounded downstairs. It was extremely uncanny how Sherlock had things times. He got up and hiked down the stairs. He smiled when opened the door to find Mycroft's assistant standing on the stoop, a medium sized manila envelope in her hand.

"Well," he grinned, "Hello!"

She looked up from the Droid that always seemed to be attached to her fingers.

"Hello," she said blankly as she handed the envelope to him, "I have a package for you."

"So I hear," he chuckled, but got no reaction in return, "So, Anthea, is it?"

She looked back up from the phone again.

"If you like," she replied with a slight smirk on her face.

They'd played this game almost every day for four months when Mycroft had insisted on having him kidnapped from the streets of London for a daily chat that got them absolutely nowhere.

"Right, then," he said with a smile, "Have a Happy Christmas."

She looked up from the phone again, but actually made eye contact with him this time. She slid the phone into a pocket of her coat and reached out a slim, well-manicured hand to him. He took it and she held tight to his for a moment.

"You have a very Happy Christmas yourself, John," she smiled at him. He blinked a couple of times at the stunning beauty before him. She'd always been beautiful, bit the sincerity in her eyes and smile made her beyond compare.

"You are such a beautiful woman, Anthea," he said honestly, "If I wasn't head over heels for someone-"

"Yes, yes, I know, "she said, her smile almost slipping back to her polite dissociative one he knew, but not quite, "but you are, John," she leaned in very closely and whispered, "and Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man."

He pulled back in shock. He knew that by now, Mycroft knew that Sherlock was alive and relatively well, but he had not thought that Mycroft's staff would be privy to that information. She schooled her face completely back into the look he recognized and released his hand.

"All instructions and necessary paperwork are in the envelope, Doctor Watson," she said formally, "Enjoy your trip."

"Trip?" he asked as she turned and opened the door of the black car at the curb.

"It's all in the packet, John," she said with a small smile. Then she climbed into the car and it sped off.


	10. Plans & Promises

John stepped back inside and closed the door. He nearly ran up the steps to the flat and closed the door and locked it. He grabbed the abandoned letter opener and tore through the edge of the envelope. He tipped the packet on edge and four things fell out: a passport, a packet of airline tickets, a smaller envelope and a folded note.

He picked up the passport. It had his picture, but was in a different name; Martin F Smith. It was an old, well used passport with stamps from countries all over the world. The airline tickets took him first to New York, New York and then to Washington, DC. The tickets were also stamped with the Martin F Smith name. He picked up the smaller envelope. In it was a stack of American bills no smaller than a half inch high. The denominations were no less than a $20 bill.

Finally, John picked up the note

_Read the rest of his letter, John. MW_

John laughed out loud. The Holmes brothers, for all their external conflict were so alike in their love of the dramatic and intrigue and sometimes so in sync one could have thought they were separated Siamese twins. He did as the note suggested and picked the letter back up, taking it and the contents of his parcel back to his chair.

_By now, my love (I hope you don't mind this endearment. I never thought I'd be able to use it with you!) you've received Mycroft's version of an apology to you; a clean passport, American cash and tickets to Washington, DC._

_There will be a car at the door the morning of the 24th at 10:00 am._

_Once you arrive in Washington, DC, take their version of the Tube. Take the Yellow line to L'Enfant Plaza. You have a reservation under Marty Smith at the Mandarin Oriental Washington just off that stop. You should arrive there around 7 pm, Eastern Standard Time. There will be further instructions for you when you arrive. But know this, my love, we will be together soon, you and I. I cannot wait to see you again. I cannot wait until you are in my arms._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock_

John set the letter down. So, he was going to Washington, DC in the morning. And he was going as Marty Smith. He would be with Sherlock before Christmas.

He first straightened the flat and wrote a short note to Mrs. Hudson:

_Mrs Hudson,_

_I am going away on a trip for at least a couple of weeks. I am not sure when I will return, but I will let you know what is going on as soon as I know. Please know that I will stay as safe as possible, but I am happy to be going where I am. If anything else, it will get me away from the reminders of Sherlock in this flat._

_Have a Happy Christmas!_

_Dr. John Watson_

John then bustled about finding things that he would need for the trip. He checked the weather. He checked his flight. He finally checked the clock on the mantle and realized he had time to sleep before he had to be ready to go. Just as he was brushing his teeth, his phone chirped, signaling a text.

_zzz, my lov_

_How am I to sleep when I know I will see you so soon JW_

_zzz wl hlp. b4 uno it, UlB W me_

_I know. But I am still amazingly wide awake JW_

_I was just about to nap, though JW_

_CU soon._


	11. Acceptance & Hope

**December 23rd**

Happy Christmas a bit early! I never thought I'd be able to say that this year. But tonight, I am in a good place and headed to one better! No all, I'm not killing myself.  In fact, just the opposite. I am taking a trip and living a little. I'm not telling you where I'm going. I'm taking my laptop so I'll keep you up on the blog. I suspect once I get to the place I'm going I will feel the need to tell the world what's going on. But for now, I don't. It's my own happy secret.

I had thought this Christmas would be absolutely horrible this year. What a difference a month makes! I have dealt with Sherlock's death a lot better than I had expected. I've even begun writing about some of the adventures we'd had before he died…It still hurts to say that, but I know that what he did he did for the greater good. I understand now, better than I ever could.

From here on out, the New Year is looking better and better. I am excited to be leaving London for an adventure that I never thought I'd have. I'm happy to finally be starting a new chapter of my life. Love to you all! Happy Christmas and a very Happy New Year to you all. May your wishes and dreams for the New Year come true!

**Harry Watson:** Where you going, bro? Going with anyone I know? Keep us in the loop! Happy Christmas! It's good to hear you're doing better!

**Greg Lestrade:** Have a great Christmas, mate! Keep in touch, eh? Let us all know you're doing well.

**Mike Stamford:** Cheers, mate! Have a Happy Christmas!

**Molly Hooper:** Blessings, John! I am so happy for you! Have a fantastic trip and wonderful holiday season! I hope to see you back at Bart's some time soon!

**Anonymous:** Glad to see you've stopped moping, friend. Enjoy your trip and keep us updated! Happy Christmas!

 

-FIN-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed! Reviews and comments are ALWAYS happily excepted. If you leave a comment, I WILL respond!
> 
> Please read the next in the series: American Adventure (coming to AO3 soon!) to follow John's trip!


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